A Lost Charge
by Tara Laurel
Summary: Chris had thought he had saved the future. He thought he was ready to finally go back home. He was wrong. Something from his past, and the future, is threatening his family. It is strange how one single person can make such a significant difference. A boy turning evil. A brother turning back time. A sister saved. A charge falling off the path. Chris-centric. No OC romance.
1. Off the Path

The hushed and monotonous hum of the wall air conditioning unit echoed throughout Emily's small apartment. Every few minutes it would create a deep rumbling groan as if it was struggling to keep alive, and then resume to its usual white noise. Despite the little machine's hard working attitude, the room was still sweltering. The curtains and shades remained drawn closed as to block out the heating sunlight, and the rest of the world. The walls, tables, and shelves inside the apartment were dull and mostly bare except for some books and candles. This was a dramatic change from Emily's once overly colorful and decorated bedroom of the house she had resided in only a few years earlier. The house in which Emily swore she would never set foot back into.

The scent of lavender filled the muggy air and Emily's nostrils as she laid back on the sunken-in and ripped couch, book in hand. The fragrance relaxed her and was one of the few things keeping her from going insane. As she was finishing reading the first sentence on the page, a thundering bang erupted under the ground below her. In the next instant, the sound of glass shattering filled her ears.

"I can't do this anymore, Richard!"

Muffled screams made their way through Emily's floor.

"You can't do this anymore? What about me, huh? You're selfish and pathetic!"

The woman let out a shriek before the distinct clap of a hand to a face could be heard. In the next moment a car alarm set out somewhere in the distance and a dog began to bark furiously. The door across the hall slammed open and shut and techno music began playing deafeningly from another. A small child cried in the distance and suddenly Emily realized in horror that it was coming from straight below her.

"Shut that kid up!" The man hollered. "Shut it up, or I will!"

The screaming continued and more glass crashed to the ground. All the noises swirled inside Emily's head and she dropped her book, rubbing her temples. A few years back Emily would have been dialing the police or hurrying downstairs to save the poor child, but now she just laid there, absent minded. She glanced up at the wall unit air conditioner and put all her energy on focusing only on that one sound, attempting to block all others out. She could deal with the white noise, in fact, she almost preferred it. It helped calm her. The smell of smoke and alcohol now covered the lavender as Emily's window was stuck partially open, also not helping with the racket. Every single sound seemed to intensify, even as she was trying to tune it out. The drip of water in the sink was like a waterfall. The tick of the clock synchronized with the beating of Emily's heart and pounded in her brain. The pounding continued to increase until she opened her eyes and realized it was coming from somewhere else. The knocks on her door pulled her back into reality and she groggily got up.

"Who is it?" Emily asked, peering through the peephole.

"Maintenance. You called about a window needing fixing."

She hated letting people in but hated the open window even more. Emily reached up and hesitantly pulled back the chain from the highest lock, then undid the sliding latch, and finally turned the deadbolt lock. She opened the door slowly and with caution, looking the man standing outside a long look before allowing him entrance.

He was not much taller than her with short blonde hair. He looked strong, but not dangerous, like most men she met in this town. He gave her a soft and genuine smile that she failed to return. She led him to the window but not before pausing.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sincerely.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She lied. Emily could not shake a feeling, but she could not even place what it was or where it was coming from. She glanced at the stranger once more. He seemed, familiar.

"This should only take a minute, then" The man stated.

"Good."

Emily resumed her spot on the couch and again attempted to concentrate on her reading.

"You interested in magic?" The stranger questioned, nodding at Emily's book.

"Um, no. I'm a big reader and have read everything else here and don't have any more money to get more books. This, this was my sister's. She was into all that sort of stuff."

"But not you?"

"No way. I prefer my literature to be a little more, well, real. Read a lot of Camus and Kierkegaard. I don't believe in any of that magic stuff or mushy love junk everyone reads today."

"So, what do you believe in?"

"Survival."

The man went back to the window and Emily went back to her book thinking that this handyman did a lot more talking than fixing but for some reason was not as agitated or infuriated as she expected herself to be.

"All fixed." The man proclaimed merely seconds later. "Sounds like you've got a leaky faucet."

"As a matter of fact, I do." She replied bitterly. "I've called you guys a dozen times about it. I was surprised to see you here for the window only after seven calls."

"Well, I have a few places I need to get to right now, but I will come back tomorrow and fix that right up for you."

"Great." Emily responded without enthusiasm, staring into the pages of her book.

The stranger left, offering another genuine smile, which again was not returned. He sighed heavily and then left. Emily got up and quickly shut all three locks as soon as the door was closed. _Finally_, she thought to herself in relief. She didn't like people and she especially didn't like strangers. Still, for some odd reason, this man did not feel like a stranger, but like family.

"I don't know what else to do" Leo confessed, pacing back in forth in the kitchen, his son Wyatt starring up at him in his highchair.

"Talking to yourself or do we have another ghost in the house?" Paige asked entering the room.

"No, I was, just, uh, talking to Wyatt, about something."

"Must be a pretty riveting one-sided conversation. What's going on Leo? Must be pretty heavy if you're unloading on an infant."

"It's nothing. Just, a charge."

"A charge? I haven't seen you with a charge since before you became an elder."

"Yeah, I know. She was my charge but they're not putting anyone else on her case because they say it's hopeless. She's a future whitelighter and has fallen from the path, more like ran from it. I've tried everything I can think of. I've posed as a neighbor, handyman, co-worker, social worker, everything. Each time, I just hit a wall. I can't just give up on her."

"Well, what's her story? Why is she so apparently hopeless?"

"I don't know much. Her first whitelighter, her family's whitelighter, was killed, along with the rest of her family. We don't know how or why."

"Elders being clueless. Big shocker there. You said 'family's whitelighter'?"

"Her step-sister and step-mother were witches. That's everything I know. So far the only thing I have gotten from her is that she had issues with her father, serious issues. She won't talk about anything, but especially not her father. Maybe she just doesn't like men. Maybe you could talk to her, try to get through to her. I am a little old to be reaching out to a 19 year old girl."

"Oh, come on Leo, you're not old, just old_er_. But, I can't help you. Piper's full on mom and expecting mom, Phoebe's full on workaholic, leaving me to be head sister witch for the time being, remember? Why don't you ask Chris to help you?" She asked innocently as Chris entered the room. "He's had his fair share of daddy issues, no offense."

"Wait, what's going on?" Chris asked, glancing back and forth from the two of them.

"Leo here," Paige began, making her way to the door, "needs your help with a charge. I'll be upstairs doing some research on some low level demon that attacked here yesterday."

"Wait," Chris interrupted, "demon attack? I should help –"

"It'll be fine. He's doing the hellfire dance as we speak, just doing some follow-up. Leo will fill you in on what you need to do. Have fun."

With that, she was gone. Leo and Chris exchanged looks and sighed.

"She's taking this 'head sister witch' kick thing pretty seriously, huh?" Chris asked, taking a seat at the table next to Wyatt.

"Yeah, I guess. Look, I'll ask her again or get one of the sisters to help Emily. Don't –"

"Wait," Chris's gaze flashed to worry, "Emily? Emily Parker? Is she your charge?"

"Yeah, but how did you know?"

"From the future. She's a whitelighter. She helps with the resistance against," He stops himself and gives a sorrowful glance at the baby version of his older brother.

"Well, she may not be a whitelighter anymore. I haven't been able to get through to her and with everything that has been going on around here, the elders have been more Wyatt focused than charges focused. They haven't tried sending anyone else. What do you know about her?"

"Not much. From what I've seen and heard though, she is one of the best. She was one of my friend's whitelighters as a kid. She told me she never met someone who loved people so much."

"Well, something serious must have happened, because right now, she hates them."


	2. Different

**A/N: Please R and R. Got ZERO reviews for the first chapter =( Even if it is bad, let me know and I will hurl myself into the underworld. Just kidding. Enjoy chapter 2. I promise, it gets much better.**

**Chapter Two: Different**

The overwhelming sounds of the city were highly prevalent in Emily's part of town. It was then that Chris yearned for his mother's ability to freeze so he could stop all of the noise and wondered if this alone made Emily bitter and jaded. A clap of thunder reverberated in the distance and Chris could see the rain clouds racing towards him. He tightened his grip on his tool chest, which he felt silly having with him, and headed up the steps to apartment 3A. He had argued with his father for quite some time before giving in to posing as a maintenance worker. Leo had promised Emily her sink would get fixed and that it was. Chris doubted how much the two of them could talk about in the few minutes it would take to repair a leaking faucet, but knew this girl had to be helped. He had seen what she would become and wouldn't let that be changed.

Chris lifted his hand to knock just as the rain began beating down on the city with a cold vengeance.

"Who is it," came a suspicious, yet familiar voice from inside.

"Um, uh, maintenance. I'm here about a leaky faucet."

Chris could hear the various clicks and rattling of the separate locks. Finally, the door swung open steadily, with hesitation. Chris nearly lost his breath and took an involuntary step backwards as if he had just laid eyes on a ghost.

"You're not the same guy from yesterday." Emily almost questioned, without even so much as a friendly greeting. "And you look pretty young to be a maintenance worker."

"I, um, was sent by the guy you met yesterday. He couldn't make it today. And what did you expect? Some creep with beard and overalls?"

Chris could have sworn he almost saw a smile slip past Emily's lips, but she stopped its emergence. She led him to the sink and he ducked underneath, pretending to know what he was doing. Every few moments he would weakly attempt creating small talk that did not work well. The time seemed to crawl by and Chris was grasping at straws. This girl was nothing like the Emily he had known from the future so he had no way to connect with her.

A booming clap of thunder interrupted his thoughts, followed instantly by a small gasp and jump from Emily. Chris looked up to tease her about the childish reaction but stopped himself. Emily's face was white and sunken. Her eyes peered past the glass of the window as if in a deep trance state. Chris cautiously stood up and made his way towards her. As he was about to reach over and touch her shoulder, he realized that her body was quivering.

"You never did like thunderstorms" Chris mumbled, remembering this strong and fearless young woman turning into a small child whenever a storm would hit,

Emily spun around quickly at the remark.

"What?"

"You don't like thunderstorms?" Chris covered his spoken thoughts.

"I'm fine," Emily answered a little too quickly for sincerity, "how is the sink?"

"Almost finished." Chris declared, just as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. "Listen, I hate to bother you, but it's getting pretty bad out there and I have to walk back to my place. Do you think I could stay here until the storm passes? I could even find more things to fix."

"I really don't feel comfortable –"

"Just until it passes, that's all. I swear."

"Fine. Whatever."

Her iciness seemed to fill the room and Chris let out a slight tremble. He couldn't fathom how someone so heartless could become a whitelighter, let alone the one he once knew. He glanced around the small place to find any clues he could. He noted to book entitled "The History of Magic" lying open on the small table next to the couch.

"You like magic?"

"What is it with you handymen and magic? Geez. Your partner or whatever asked me the same thing yesterday. What, are you guys witches or something?" Her icy sarcasm was evident as she shoved the book back into its place on the shelf.

Chris simply let out an uncomfortable and nervous small laugh. There was a silent tension slowly saturating the room. Emily's anything but subtle sarcasm now turned into suspicion as she eyed Chris carefully. Without notice, she leapt up from her seat on the couch and reached for a wooden box on her bookshelf.

"You are, aren't you?"

"What?" Chris asked not knowing if he was more shocked by her sudden movement or by her question.

"You're a witch, or maybe a demon. I don't care either way. You're all the same." With that, Emily flipped open the box and pulled out a large dangling object.

"You stay away from me. This is an ancient amulet, not some pawn shop piece of crap. You can't use your powers on me while I have it in my possession, so I suggest you leave, now."

"Wait, Emily, let me explain." Chris fumbled for words.

"How do you know my name? I never said it and they only just give you a room number to come to."

"It's complicated, please –"

"No! Just get out of here!"

"Listen, you know I can't hurt you and I wouldn't. Just calm down and let me explain."

"Fine. Start explaining. Just know that this isn't the only magical object I own and I can kill you, even if I don't have any powers of my own."

"My name is Chris. I've come to help you."

"Help me? I don't need any help. I've had just about enough 'help' from your kind, thanks."

"What are you talking about? How do you even know about me, about magic?"

"That doesn't matter! I just know one of you when I see you!"

The storm was building its intensity outside as if along with the heated argument indoors. The wind began to howl and Emily could no longer tell if it was nature or the neighborhood dogs. The banging and crashing was no longer from drunks or quarreling couples. A piercing noise erupted behind Emily and before she could react, Chris was on top of her, shoving her to the floor just as the broken glass and tree branch soared above them.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, reaching out to help Emily to her feet. She refused to take his hands and pushed all her weight on her shoulders to spring up.

For a moment, she did not answer. She stood there, staring at him with the most unique gaze. Her eyes were filled with so many emotions Chris ventured to imagine that even Phoebe would have a hard time reading this girl, or at least get one serious migraine.

"Why, why did you –" She trailed off as if in a daze.

"Like I said, I am here to help you."

"Great. You saved me from a killer tree branch. Thank you, but it's time for you to go now."

Chris was taken aback at how quickly her attitude and mood altered right back to their original states. He searched himself for something, anything to say.

"You're bleeding" was all he managed to get out, nodding at her arm that had been grazed by a piece of glass. "You should let me take you to my fath – the man you met yesterday – he is a healer."

"And meet more of your kind? No thank you. I will be fine. I've been worse, believe me."

Emily nonchalantly went into the kitchen area and came back out, pressing an old and ragged towel against the flowing wound.

"See?" She said flopping down on the couch. "I can take care of myself just fine and certainly don't need any help, especially from someone like you."

Without asking, Chris waved his hand and sent the pieces of broken shards of glass into garbage can. Emily froze. It was like an arrow had pierced her heart and Chris thought for a moment that a tear was fighting to escape from her eye. She held it back firmly and continued sitting there in stunned silence.

"You, you can –" again she trailed off into silence. After another moment of staring, Emily's expression turned sour. "Get out."

"What? Why?"

"I said get out! Now!"

The rage and hurt in her voice erupted with the words, filling every crack and crevice in the apartment. Chris, knowing not to push anymore for the day, orbed away without another word.

When he arrived back in the manor, he merely paced on the hardwood flooring. He had witnessed people reacting horrified or upset when viewing his powers for the first time, but this, this was different, _she _was different.


	3. Libraries and Memories

****

A/N: Thanks to like the TWO of you who reviewed. please please please review. is it great? does it suck? confusing? do i need to be vanquished right now for my horrible story? let me know =)

**R and R Please and Thank you**

**Chapter 3: Libraries and Memories**

"How'd it go?"

Leo's voice startled him and Chris spun around to face his father.

"Not good. She knows."

"Knows? Knows what?"

"About magic. About witches, demons, about everything. Oh, and one more thing, she hates us."

"What?"

"Yeah. Threatened me with some amulet and told me to get out."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but I do know I am going to fix this."

"How?"

"I don't know okay! But I need to fix it. It's my fault she's like this."

"What do you mean 'your fault'? Chris –"

"No, dad. You said she hasn't been reassigned another whitelighter because the elders were busy because you had them focusing on me because of all the sneaking around I was doing and then on saving Wyatt. Now, I don't know Emily that well in the future, but I do know that she isn't like this. Something must have happened, and I am going to figure it out."

With that, Chris turned and hurried up the steps to the attic. He wasn't going to let this happen on his account, especially to not to her.

He practically raced to the stand and began flipping wildly through the Book of Shadows' pages. He knew he didn't have much time. Repulsive faces of demons and various creatures flashed before his eyes with each frantic turn. He barely noticed the shimmering blue and white light forming merely feet in front of him.

"What are you doing Chris?" Leo's voice was more of concern than of suspicion, a change from the past times he had asked his son this question.

"Looking for the amulet Emily had. I've seen it before, somewhere. I know I have. It's powerful so it should be in here. If I can find it then I can find who it belonged to and maybe figure out more about Emily, because, honestly, I think it would take some serious torture for that girl to share any personal stories, let alone her life history. Damn it, I'm not finding it. Look, I'll be at Magic School. Maybe there will be something in the library."

Without another word, Chris lit up the room with his own blue and white light and vanished. Leo sighed and glanced at the image of an aged but beautiful stone on the last page Chris had stopped.

The library was silent and vacant except one lone teacher with his nose in a book entitled "Advanced Magic 101 for Teachers: How to Handle the Magic and the Students". Chris chuckled quietly at the book. He plopped down on the nearest chair with his stack of books, remembering his times in Advanced Magic.

* * *

The class was evenly divided between the students who worked and studied hard and those who were just luckily blessed with higher powers but with no intellectual right to set foot in the class and caused more trouble than anything. Chris himself was divided as well. He was highly intelligent and loved learning and reading, no matter how much he hid the fact from his family. Still, he hated school, especially Magic School. It reminded him of his father, the father who was never around for him but was around to teach there in earlier years. It reminded him of his mother who had taken over the school after the headmaster, Gideon, mysteriously disappeared and spent much of her first few years he was alive there to protect him and Wyatt. Wyatt didn't need protecting though, and he knew it too. Chris loved his older brother but couldn't help to see what he was slowly becoming. Everyone else denied or suppressed the thoughts. They said it was just teenage rebellion. Chris saw it differently. He had looked up to his big brother his entire childhood and knew him better than anyone else and knew that something was not right about him.

"Alright class, today we have a guest teacher."

The voice had pulled him away from his sulking and Chris set his eyes on the young woman now standing before them.

"Aren't you a little young to be teaching lady? You could be my sister." A kid in the back spoke up.

"Or my girlfriend" another sneered, nodding his head at the new face.

"For your information, I am in my thirties. Oh and, not a chance." She remarked, shaking her head at the boy who had been flirting with her with his eyes.

"Thirties?" The first student chided "You don't look older than 20."

"It's called magic you idiot." Chris chimed in.

"She's a whitelighter." A girl in one of the front desks piped up. "She's _my _whitelighter. One of the greatest of all time and she's only been at it for less than two decades."

Chris perked up at this comment. He glanced from the supposed whitelighter standing in front of the class and then back to the student.

* * *

"Son? Son?"

The elderly Advanced Magic teacher was poking at Chris's shoulder sharply, bringing him out of his dream.

"Yeah? What?" Chris asked groggily and irritated.

"It's late son. No one else is here. Library is closed. You should go on home."

"No. I can't."

"Alright, suit yourself."

The man began limping out of the room and Chris let out a heavy sigh just as he turned around one last time.

"Who is Melinda?"

"What?" Chris was caught off guard.

"You said her name in your sleep right before I woke you up. She a _girlfriend_?"

"No! God, no. I mean, she's no one."

"Alrighty then. Have a good night."

Chris rubbed his forehead as the man finally made his exit. He could not get the girl from the front row's face out of his mind.


	4. Runaway

**A/N: Okay so here are some more memories. The memories/present are seperated by lines so I hope it isn't too confusing. let me know ifi it is. the first memory takes place after the memory at the end of this chapter. **

**Chapter 4: Runaway**

"Melinda, wait up!"

Chris jogged to catch up with the girl who had spoken up in class.

"What do you want Chris?"

"You, _you_ got a whitelighter? I thought you turned away from all this and were only going to Magic School because you feel close to mom and dad here?"

"It's none of your business what I do or do not do. Alright? Leave me alone."

"No, wait. You sounded happy in there. What happened?"

"Look, I've forgiven you and Wyatt for what happened, thanks to Emily, but that doesn't mean I have to explain myself to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am late for Advanced Spell Writing and Composition."

"You were always good with spells."

"A little late for bonding time, Chris."

With that, Melinda turned on her heel and hurried off, disappearing into a cluster of students down a long corridor.

* * *

"Chris? Chris."

Chris blinked his eyes and slowly found everything he was seeing to be on its side. He groggily peeled his face off of the page of the book he had fallen asleep reading and glanced up to see his parents looking down at him in concern.

"Mom, dad, what are you doing here this late?"

"Actually, it's morning." Piper answered. "We're dropping off Wyatt so we can help your aunts go after a demon that attacked the house last night." She waited for his normal paranoid and hasty response but did not find it.

"Did you stay up reading all this all night?" Leo questioned, glancing over piles of books.

"Yeah. I guess."

"So," Piper chimed in, "demon hunting. Are you coming or what?"

"No mom. I think I am going to sit this one out if that's cool with you. I need to do this."

"Since when do you turn down going after a demon, let alone freaking out about it?" Piper asked, worry and slight teasing filling her voice.

"Since now. You can call for me if you need my help but this is important. Sorry."

"Okay. Leo, you want to orb me back to Paige and Phoebe and _you_…" she nodded and made a gesture towards Chris, instructing Leo to talk to their son.

"Yeah. Sure. Be careful."

"Always" Piper responded as Leo whisked her away with a flick of his hand.

"Chris-"

"Dad, please don't start. I still haven't found what I'm looking for and have tons more reading to do."

"Why do you care so much about her? I've never seen you act this way with a charge with your past history of avoiding, turning down, or, um, sleeping with them."

"I can't tell you, alright?"

"You say that about a lot of things and normally when you do, it ends up turning into a mess and then you tell us anyway. Remember turning into a spider and almost killing me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've told you guys so much already, too much. I just, I just can't. I'll fix it and everything will be fine."

"What if you can't?"

"I can, damn it! I have to."

"Chris, come on, talk to me."

* * *

"Melinda, wait!" Wyatt commanded from across the room as he orbed in front of her path and Chris went to the doorway to cut her off.

"Cute, real cute. That's not fair. You know I can't orb."

"Exactly." Wyatt nodded, with an almost sinister sneer that made Melinda's skin crawl.

"So, what are you guys going to do, huh? Keep me here like some prisoner?"

"It's a thought." Wyatt murmured, less sarcastic than Melinda would have liked.

"You can't do this, Mel" Chris warned sympathetically.

"And why not?"

"Because it's dangerous on your own!" Chris shouted. "You know that!"

"It's dangerous here! Hello? Were you in a coma this past month? Our parents are dead! Dead! And why? Because of this! This life! This magic!"

"We miss them too but –"

"Miss them? You were too busy lashing out at dad for never being there. Oh and why was he never around? Because of magic! And you, Wyatt, you're always off doing God knows what, getting into all sorts of trouble! _I _was the one helping mom with the cooking and the cleaning and the potions. _I _was the one helping look after Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige's kids! _I _was the one that – that almost was killed last week!"

"What are you talking about?" Chris questioned, dumbfounded and noticeably concerned.

"Oh, _now _you're worried. You didn't seem like it when you were off your girlfriend, Bianca or what's-her-name new girl of the month! And who knows where Wyatt was! Venting more rage on demons probably." Wyatt clenched his fists slightly at the comment but Chris put up his hand to calm him, even though it didn't work. "The point is, I needed help, and neither of you were there."

"Sorry we are not there to answer every beck and call, princess." Wyatt snickered. "It's not like we are your personal orb chauffeurs."

Melinda shook off the deriding comment to avoid further arguing.

"I was attacked. I went to our house, I mean, our old house, the manor, to, I don't know, look at things, to be with mom and dad's stuff. There were demons there waiting for someone to show up. I called for both of you, over and over, but you didn't come. You just put me on 'mute' like you always do. I was so scared and I was praying for my big brothers to save me. I thought I was dead until Uncle Coop showed up to do the same thing I was. He grabbed me and got me out. He saved me. A minute later and I would be one more dead Halliwell."

Melinda sighed and rubbed her forehead, as if that story had been burning on her chest since it happened and waiting for the right moment to explode out.

"I'm done with it, all of it. No more using my powers. No more demon hunting or innocent protecting. Nothing!"

"Melinda –"

"Chris, I'm thirteen years old. I heard what Grandpa said and he was right. I am supposed to be doing homework, talking about cute boys, complaining about chores, having sleepovers. I am not supposed to be watching my family die. I can't. I won't. Debby and Paul said they would take me in. I'll still go to Magic School so I can see you guys and the rest of the family, and, and it's where I feel close to mom and dad. Debby bound her powers for Paul so they know about magic and I will still be able to go to school, but I won't have to deal with any of, this. I can be _normal._"

"Normal?" Wyatt scoffed. "Who the hell wants to normal?"

"Mom did." Melinda shot him a hard glance that would have made anyone else in the family back down, but not Wyatt.

"You'll never be normal." Wyatt countered. "You're one of us. You can't fight it. You can't fight your power."

"Watch me." With that, Melinda ran out of the room, pushing Chris to the side before he even had time to react and stop her.

"Should I orb after her?" Chris looked up to his older brother.

"No. Let her go. If she doesn't want this life, fine. She's either with us or against us and she just chose her side."

Chris looked from the vacant doorway where his baby sister had seconds ago stood and then to the big brother who he once idolized in horror; half in horror of what could happen to Melinda, half in horror of what was happening to Wyatt.


	5. When a Stranger Visits

**Chapter 5: When a Stranger Visits**

Searching among the countless ragged and outdated books was getting Chris nowhere. He needed answers and he needed them fast. Otherwise…_No. _He thought silently. He could not allow himself to even imagine the possibility. In utter frustration and hopelessness, Chris slammed the oversized "World's Most Powerful Charms, Amulets, Crystals, and More" closed, a layer of dust and the banging sound filling the room. With a labored sigh, Chris shoved all the books to the side.

Books and research was getting him nowhere. He knew he would just have to bite the bullet and see Emily again, that is, if she hadn't skipped town or would even answer the door.

The commotion surrounding Emily's apartment was just as thunderous as before, if not more so. Chris hovered outside her window, not desiring to pop in unexpected to find her getting out of the shower or surprise her at the wrong time and give her a heart attack.

She was reading again. No surprise there. The odd thing, though, was that she was reading from what looked to Chris like a tattered diary. She flipped the pages quickly, but carefully, as to not cause any further damage to the already worn journal. She wasn't slouched over on her normal spot on the couch either. After locating a specific page, Emily set the book face down on the floor, keeping it open, and walked gingerly over to her bookshelf and table, collecting the various candles that decorated them. With slight noticeable hesitation, she set them out to create a large circle that nearly engulfed her entire living room area. Once all of them had been lit, Emily turned the diary over and stood, staring down at the page she had been so intent on finding. Chris watched in pure shock at what he was witnessing as Emily paced back and forth, arguing with herself. Finally, letting out a defeated sigh, she began reading aloud from the page.

"Hear these words, hear my cries, spirit from the other side. Come to me, I summon thee, Cross now the great divide."

A harsh and swift wind erupted in the small place, blowing out the candles' flames instantly.

"Damn it!" Emily cried out, snapping the small journal shut with her hand. "I know this works, Abby! I've seen you use it. Get down here, now! Please. Please. I need you. People keep showing up, asking about magic, about you, about mom, about me. I don't know what to do, Abby. This is my last resort."

Finding that her pleas to the ceiling were unmet and unheard, Emily dropped the book on the table and began picking up the candles. Seeing the opening, Chris orbed inside, causing Emily to drop the two candles in her hands.

"Oh, sorry." Chris apologized, reaching down to help.

"No, I got it." Emily stated, snatching up the candles before Chris could even bend fully over. "Don't you knock?"

"Would you have really answered?"

"Do I have any reason to?"

"Look, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but this is important and we don't have a lot of time. Like I said I'm-"

"Here to help me, yeah, I know. I've heard it plenty of times from all of your friends."

"My friends?"

"Yeah, the people I am assuming you or your partner keep sending here every day."

"Listen, we haven't sent anyone. You've got to believe me. Those people that come here are not my friends or yours."

"Oh, but you are?"

"Yes. What did these people say?"

"Oh, the usual; that they wanted to 'help me', to 'guide me'. Let me tell you something, I don't need any help or guidance from anybody. All I need is to be left alone."

"Really?" Chris asked softly. "It looks like you just were looking for some." He said, eyeing the book.

"What are you, spying on me? That's none of your business." Emily snapped, grabbing the diary and holding it close.

"Who's Abby?"

Emily was solid stone and silent.

"She was your sister, wasn't she? Look, you don't trust me, I get it, and that's fine. Honestly, I wouldn't either. But I know what it is like to lose family, and I know the look. I know what it is like to hate the entire world and everyone in it for what happened, to shut yourself off and shut yourself in. To stop living. The only emotion you allow yourself to feel is anger. You suppress the hurt, the pain, the guilt, everything, even the good ones. Believe me, I know."

"You don't know anything! You don't know me!"

Not a second after Emily's outburst, the door to her apartment crashed open. A tall figure stepped through slowly, a wide smirk covering his face. His hair was charcoal black and stopped short of his ears, swooping back gracefully.

"You?" Chris's eyes widened.

"Hello Chris" The stranger spoke in a deep and chilling voice. "Looks like you're not the only one trying to change the future."

"Who the hell are you?" Emily spoke up. It amazed Chris at not only how calm she was, but how strong.

"Me?" The stranger chided. "I'm the man that is going to kill you."

"Oh please," Emily rolled her eyes "like I haven't heard that one before. I've heard better lines from-"

Before she could finish, the man hurled a line of fire, as if it were a stream of water, in her direction. Chris dove in front of her, knocking her to the floor but not escaping being scorched across the shoulder. He let out a small groan as he too hit the floor. Without hesitation, Chris stood back up and faced his attacker.

"Oh, come on Chris." The demon laughed. "You couldn't kill me in the future. What makes you think you can now?"

The demon lifted his arm to send another blast of fire but Chris rose his hand quicker, sending the demon flying into the hallway. Chris turned and helped Emily off the floor.

"Come on, we're leaving, now."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

A line of fire cut across the room, just missing Emily's head.

"Leaving sounds good." Emily said quickly, taking Chris's hand. The two disappeared in a swirl of bright light just as the demon sent another fire blast.


	6. Worring Rising Up Within

**A/N: Sorry for the wait on the update folks! Hope there are at least some people left out there still reading this. If so, PLEASE, read AND review, THANK YOU =) Enjoy. **

**Chapter 6: Worry Rising Up Within**

The world around Emily faded. The apartment was no longer her apartment but a mass of colors and light. The air seemed to escape from her lungs all at once and she felt as though her body had left her. She possessed this curious and indescribable sensation of almost floating and falling at the same time. She knew in the mental sense of things that she was indeed alive, but yet she felt somehow separated from life itself. She simply, was. Not here. Not there. It made her head throb merely thinking about the concept. It was then that she realized something else hurt. Her stomach twisted into knots and nearly crawled up into her throat. Emily leaned forward to heave when she suddenly found the bright lights and floating sensation had both disappeared. Realizing she was again on solid ground, her knees buckled and her feet tangled together in a helpless mass that nearly brought her crashing to the floor. A set of strong arms caught her underneath the shoulders before she could fully collapse. Regaining her balance hesitantly, Emily pulled away from the helping arms and frantically glanced around, in search of her attacker.

"It's okay," she heard a soft voice assure her, "he won't follow us here."

"Where's here," Emily spun around, clutching her stomach from the sudden movement, "and why do I feel so sick?"

Emily closed her eyes briefly, partially hoping she'd reopen them to find it all to have been a terrible dream. With a scowl as her eyelids lifted and she saw where she still was, Emily glanced up at her forceful savior.

"Don't worry," the stranger consoled her with a small chuckle and leading her to a chair, "you get used to it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emily snapped, reluctantly taking the offered seat.

"Nothing," he replied, trailing off to avoid the topic.

"Well, sorry, stalker boy, I don't want to get _used_ to it. I don't want anything to _do_ with it. Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

Her temper flared and she rose from her seat. Pausing, she finally began to look around at her present surroundings. It certainly didn't look like one of the dark and foul places she had read about in her sister's books where many of the evil creatures dwelled. She noted the lack of grime and dried blood and cocked an eyebrow at the entire average atmosphere to it all. It almost reminded her of – no she couldn't allow herself to think of that, of them. It was too late though as this stranger examined her clouded eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay? I just got attacked by a demon –"

"Darklighter –"

"Whatever! You're all the same, all of you and your magic! I just want to be left alone! But no, I get attacked and then brought here in some swirl of light that makes my stomach sick and I don't even know where here is!"

"Chris –"

Another voice entered the mix and the two turned to meet the curious and concerned eyes of a petite woman.

"Who's your friend?"

"Phoebe, this is Emily."

Phoebe stuck out a hand swiftly and offered the girl a warm grin. Tension leaked from the floorboards as the three stood silently. Emily simply glared at the gesture as if it was going to bite her and then back into the eyes of the woman. Phoebe scrunched her nose and shifted her lips awkwardly until she finally lowered her arm.

"Chris, could I –?" Phoebe neglected to finish the request verbally, but resorted to nodding her head towards the living room.

"Please," Chris groaned before following his aunt, "stay here."

"Where am I going to go?" Emily asked sarcastically. "I can't disappear into blue and white lights like you, remember?"

Chris sighed and retreated to the living room.

"Okay," Phoebe began, "please tell me she's an innocent because she's a little young for you –"

"Aunt Phoebe – ew – no. She's Leo's charge."

"Leo has a charge again?"

"It's a long story."

"So, if she's Leo's charge, why are you here with her?"

There was a pause that Phoebe caught to Chris's dismay.

"Let me guess, another long story? Does this one involve more hidden Chris secrets? You know, stuff you try to hide and then it bites you in the ass later on?"

"Such a bad influence, and Mom doesn't want me to swear."

"Cut the act, Chris. What's going on? Talk to me. You know you can."

"Yeah, I know. I've already revealed so much –"

"Future consequences, end of the world, yeah, yeah. So, that does mean this does have to deal with future secrecy."

"Yes – no – I mean – please, just don't say anything. Hearing one of their kids was going to grow up to be the source of all evil is one thing." Again, Chris failed to fully complete the thought.

"Well, whatever crazy thing you're doing now, just be careful."

"I know, I know." Chris paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Do you hear that?"

Phoebe shrugged and perked up her ears to listen to whatever was alerting her nephew.

"Nothing," Phoebe suddenly understood.

The two quickly hurried into the hall to be greeted by an empty space and a cracked open front door.

"Damn it," Chris hissed through clenched teeth and flung himself out the door.

Frantically looking up and down the street, Christ found no sign of the girl who was fast becoming a great frustration. He simply couldn't comprehend how the girl he knew so well in the future was currently this callous and arrogant teenager. Chris ran his fingers across his disheveled bangs and ceased his visual search. Phoebe was at his side when he lowered his head in desperation.

"She couldn't have gotten far," she assured him, "just, you know, sense for her."

"I can't. She's not my charge."

"Boy, are you the glass half empty kind of guy. Did you ever think about just giving it a try?"

Chris sighed in defeat and closed his eyes briefly. Bringing his arms up noisily in defeat, he reopened them.

"See? Nothing. I'm going to find her." Chris began to charge down the steps when Phoebe caught his arm.

"Whoa, hey. How do you expect to do that? Orb around town until you get lucky?"

"If I have to, yeah."

Phoebe grabbed at him again.

"Just – just hold on. Leo!"

She purposefully didn't even warn Chris before calling out for his father. It wasn't long before Chris was staring back at his dad's glowing orbs and then his eyes. Again, Phoebe neglected to let Chris speak.

"Chris lost your charge."

"What? Hey – I did not. She just sort of –"

"Ran off." Phoebe finished for him.

"Thank you," Chris replied sarcastically.

"Did you sense for her?" Leo questioned.

"Yes."

"And?"

"Nothing. I told you, I'm no good at this whitelighter stuff."

"Then why'd you agree to help?"

"Just never mind. Can you sense her?"

Leo paused and his eyes shifted, but his frown remained.

"What?" Chris prompted. "What is it? She's not – is she –"

"She's alive, I just can't sense where she is. It's like a wall or something, some sort of spell. She doesn't want to be found, by anyone or anything."

"Any idea why that would be, Chris?" Phoebe turned to her nephew and gave him a cocked eyebrow.

"What is it?" Leo glanced back and forth from the two.

"Nothing," Chris replied sharply and shot Phoebe a warning glance. "Never mind. I'm going to find her."

Without another word, Chris disappeared into his bright light, leaving Phoebe and Leo staring blankly at one another.

"Well, it was nice while it lasted," Phoebe sighed.

"What?"

"Leo, I'm afraid your son is back to his old neurotic and antisocial ways."

Leo joined her sigh and stared off where his son previously stood, worry rising up within him.


	7. The Song Remains the Same

**A/N:**** Same old, same old. I don't own the original show, etc etc. Also, I know this chapter may seem weird with what she does but you will understand why she does what she does later on. **

**please / por favor - - - read and review - - - thank you / gracias **

**Chapter 7: The Song Remains the Same**

Emily couldn't stand the waiting much longer. She very much disliked being excluded from the conversation occurring in the other room, most likely concerning her. She didn't like the fact that she was being discussed either. She didn't want to be discussed or helped. The entire situation nearly enraged her. Emily was someone who thrived on being in control. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted. Magic only got in the way of that control. You couldn't manipulate when evil creatures were going to attack. Spells tended to not do exactly what you intended them to or completely backfired. Even a magical being's powers could turn against them. Now, Emily's life was spinning out of control and there was no way to stop it. All Emily could think to do now, was run. It had worked for in the past; she imagined it would do the same again.

Emily was relieved to be out of that house and took in a grateful breath as she stepped down onto the sidewalk. The furniture, the colors, all of it reminded her far too much of a place she vowed never to return to again.

Here though, existed yet another area of chaos Emily failed to be able to control. She was in a neighborhood she had never seen before and had no inkling of how to return home. _Home_, Emily scoffed at the meaningless thought. That apartment wasn't her home, just another roof and set of walls until she needed to run again. Emily briefly pondered returning, but then recalled the broken window and now broken door. An idea flashed in her mind that was so beautiful to her she could hardly stand it.

Sprinting down from the sidewalk to the end of the street, Emily glanced around her surroundings. At least she could recognize she was still in the same city. Finding the nearest bus stop, Emily paid the toll with what little money she had swiped from the abandon purse in the hallway of the house she hated.

The ride took far longer than she had desired and she grew anxious, not wanting to remain in the same place for too long. As the bus rounded a corner and rolled to her stop, Emily raced to the doors and leapt out. She couldn't run to her apartment fast enough for her excitement. Nearly out of breath, Emily reached the broken down door and stepped over the debris and inside. She failed to waste any time on nostalgia and simply grabbed a few valuables. Finally, she came to her bookshelf. Her beloved works of literature faced her and beckoned to not be abandoned. They were the items that separated her from the magic. While her sister dug her nose into countless books of magic, spells, potions, and more, Emily countered with novels of great authors to give her self a sense of superiority above her sibling.

She knew all too well it was illogical to carry a bag of books with her. Emily's eyes scanned the titles and they suddenly fell on the small and tattered journal wedged clumsily between Niche and Shakespeare. Her fingers quaking, Emily reached out for the item and plucked it from its resting place. Her eyes danced with unexpected emotions and she hastily shoved the book inside her pack and shook the feelings away.

Emily carefully scanned the room and became abruptly dissatisfied with the disaster. Ripping the tarp from the broken window, Emily released an animalistic howl of rage. With another shriek, Emily turned to the bookshelf where her prized novels rested snugly against one another. Not allowing herself a moment to think and hesitate, Emily pulled the piece of wooden furniture down to the floor with a deafening clamor. The act was almost therapeutic and Emily searched for more to demolish. Droplets of sorrow-filled water struggled to break free at the corner of her eyes. Emily quickly replaced the grief with rage and continued on her rampage. A lamp went tumbling to the floor with a satisfying crash. Her mirror that hung beside her closet shattered against the force of her elbow. The blood spotted glass trickled down to the floor. Emily gazed at her new wound impassively for a moment before wiping her fingers over the dripping crimson substance. Emily quickly ran her hand along the wall, red streaks tainting the pale coloring. Still, it wasn't enough. Emily needed to be sure her constructed scene was convincing for everyone. She dashed to the kitchen and drew a long knife out from a drawer. Closing her eyes and grinding her teeth, Emily slid the blade across her forearm. Scarlet liquid discharged from the opening. Emily stood and gravely watched as the carpet turned dark with the stain. It wasn't long before a puddle formed and Emily moved on to her next desired spot to decorate red. When she finished, the room looked utterly tragic. It was only for a moment that she allowed the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach to emerge before suppressing it and all other weak emotions. She hastily bandaged the self-inflicted injury. Satisfied with her work, Emily hurried out the door way, pulling and hooded sweatshirt over her head and slipping on a pair of wide sunglasses.


End file.
